


A Good Night's Rest

by SoftlyTea



Series: Skyrim Kink Meme [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Angst, Cuddles, F/M, Marriage, Married Sex, Skyrim Kink Meme, Sleepy Sex, breaking the werewolf curse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 23:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6929605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftlyTea/pseuds/SoftlyTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curses aren't easily broken, but cuddly husbands make everything that much easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Night's Rest

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/5232.html?thread=12764016#t12764016) on the Skyrim Kink Meme, with thanks to the prompter for such a sweet fluff-inspiring idea.

It had taken all Velyna's strength to kill the wolf spirit.

Not physical, as it happened, but emotional; it had required a force of will that she had not expected. She had wanted this, wanted to be free of the beast blood, wanted to sleep soundly again, wanted to get those disgusting shrivelled witch heads out of her home. (She had laughed mirthlessly at that, wondering if marriage had made her houseproud). Why, then, did she hesitate before delivering the final blow, why did she feel that something truly special to her had been taken from her, why did she feel this keen sense of loss?

Vilkas was waiting for her outside the chamber, both having agreed that they would each do this alone. His sombre expression betrayed the weight of his heart as well, and she gratefully allowed herself to be pulled into his arms.

'Home?' he muttered into her hair.

Vilkas had always been a man of few words, but the journey back to Whiterun was unusually silent even for him. Velyna was grateful. Her hand reassuringly held in his was enough, as she mourned the loss of something that had been part of her for so long.

They took to their bed early that night, limbs heavy from fatigue they were unaccustomed to. Velyna snuggled into his arms and laid her head on his chest, drawing comfort from his steady heartbeat and the gentle fingers stroking the back of her neck. She still felt bereft, despite the familiar weight of his arms around her and the soft warmth of the furs.

She had wanted to bear it alone. Not even the familiarity of marriage had quite broken through her Dunmeri reticence, and years of being a mer in Skyrim had left her with a near-constant sense that she had something to prove. What good would it do, anyway, to add her own burdens to his? But this was just too much for her, as painful as it was to admit it.

She wriggled onto her front to rest her chin against his chest and turn crimson eyes to meet his. He smiled down at her.

'You alright, love?'

She took a deep breath.

'Do you feel as I do?' she asked, struggling to keep her voice even. 'So - empty?'

Vilkas frowned as he twirled a strand of her ebony hair between his fingers, clearly choosing his words carefully.

'Aye, I do. But... well, the way I see it, he was only ever a guest, and it was time for him to leave. Aela doesn't see it like that. She thinks her wolf is part of her, _is_ her. That's why she'll never accept the cure, it would be like killing a part of herself. But you and me, we saw them for what they were. Just visitors.'

Velyna looked forlorn.

'Visitors. Well, I miss mine.'

'I know, but you'll always have me, little wolf. We still have each other, and it will get easier with time. C'mere.'

He pulled her back down to him, pleased when she smiled at her nickname, and kissed her forehead sleepily.

'I'm glad,' she murmured into his chest.

It wasn't long before his gentle strokes on her back slowed to a halt, and Velyna soon joined him in their first peaceful sleep together, lulled by the protective warmth of his arms encircling her and the soothing crackle of the fire in the grate.

\--

Consciousness drifted back to Vilkas gradually with the dawn, granting him creeping awareness of the soft warm contours of his sleeping wife nestled in his arms, the steady rhythm of her breathing, the comforting scent of lavender and woodsmoke and _her._

 _My wife,_ he thought (sometimes he still couldn't quite believe it), _and now, divines willing, every morning can be like this._

She would awaken soon, he knew. Even before taking the blood, she had been an early riser, out in Jorrvaskr's training yard with the sunrise to hack impatiently at the dummies until one of her shield-siblings considered themselves sufficiently conscious to spar with her.

It was normally him, he remembered, especially when he began rising earlier to watch her before taking up his own weapons and going to join her. That was how it had all started. He had never thought that a war axe could be wielded 'gracefully', or that he would ever think it particularly important that it was. But she did, and it was, and he found himself having to keep himself from staring. And Vilkas didn't _dance,_ never had, (unless you counted whatever raucous stomping customarily took place in Jorrvaskr after large amounts of mead and a job done well), but damn it all if that wasn't the only word that could describe her fluid movements. He had berated himself, then, for going soft, losing his wits, but that hadn't lasted long. Only until that night celebrating after that dragon. It had started when she'd laughingly pulled him to his feet to 'dance' with her, progressed through a mead-soaked haze of sly glances and loaded comments, and then everything was the two of them, why hadn't they seen this coming, hadn't it been so _obvious,_ and they'd ended up fucking desperately, frenziedly against the wall downstairs while their fellow Companions continued their oblivious carousing above them...

The only thing different about the next morning had been their slight hangovers, no embarrassment or awkwardness or feelings of Needing To Talk (for which Vilkas was grateful). And then it had happened more and more often until one day it was more tender than desperate, and one day they ended up talking about everything and nothing instead, and one day they realised there might be more between them than lust...

Back in the present, his hardening length poked insistently at her hip.

Yes, she awoke early. Would it be so wrong to hurry it along, just a little?

He nuzzled at her neck experimentally, heartened when she made a contented little noise and shifted in his arms. Any uncertainty he may have had vanished when a low chuckle accompanied a warm hand snaking down his body to caress him and he groaned at her touch, relaxing into her languid strokes and setting himself to planting gentle kisses up her neck and the shell of her ear.

She shivered, her breath catching in her throat. He regretted every time he'd called an elf a 'knife-ear' in his youth, but then, his younger self had no idea what delicious sensations could be produced with them. If the boy could have only seen this goddess of a woman he would grow up to marry - he smirked inwardly at the thought as said goddess squirmed at a well-placed nibble.

She craned her head round to face him, blinking blearily in the early morning sunlight, a sleepy smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

'Good morning.'

It was, rather. But he didn't reply then, just brushed his lips against hers instead.

She was going to turn towards him, but his arms held her in place. She didn't object, especially as this position gave him such perfect access to her ear and neck, places he knew she enjoyed so much, places he was all to eager to give his attention to. And then familiar fingers were stroking a soft rhythm over her sex, and just as she felt the warmth of building release he pressed himself into her, holding her tightly to him as he set a slow, languid pace and she felt like she was melting around him, pleasure pooling hot in her abdomen.

Wolf blood or no, all would be well, because this was her husband, her beloved Vilkas with her, inside her, his gentle fingers coaxing her ever closer to her orgasm, his hand caressing her breasts, his warm breath on her ear. Being able to wake up to this was worth all of yesterday's pain.

When release came, it washed over them in warm waves of sensation, leaving them heavy and sated in the sleepy haze of morning.

She yawned, stretched luxuriously and turned to face him. He grinned.

'Morning,' he said. 'Sleep well?'

'Very. Mm. Forgotten what a good night's sleep felt like,' she trailed her fingers over his stubbled jawline, 'and waking up with you is - nice.'

Yes, yesterday had been a difficult day, but there was very little that a good night's rest and a Vilkas-shaped husband couldn't solve.


End file.
